


King of the Dawn

by Jerevinan



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Noct Lives AU, Revived character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 17:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11696121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jerevinan/pseuds/Jerevinan
Summary: Many sacrificed their lives for the king, and so he should sacrifice his life in turn. But Ignis isn't ready to say goodbye, and has prepared something to make sure he won't have to.[Day 5 prompt fill for ignoctweek]





	King of the Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by the song “Small of Two Pieces” by Joanne Hogg and Yasunori Mitsuda, a song from the Xenogears soundtrack:
> 
>  
> 
> _Cold fire clenched to my heart_  
>  _In the blue of night_  
>  _Torn by this pain, I paint your name in sound_  
>  _And the girl of the dawn, with eyes of blue and angels' wings_  
>  _The songs of the season are her only crown_
> 
>  
> 
> I changed “girl” to “King” in this case, but it was so fitting for ignoct...

Ignis seeks a pulse and doesn’t find one. Thick blood drenches his hand, and he can smell its metallic stench in the air. Despite Noctis’ campfire words, he refuses to accept this as their fate. After ten years of waiting, he shouldn’t have to say goodbye so soon.

He shouldn’t have to, and he won’t. 

There is only a little of the King’s magic left. Ignis can feel it like electricity against his fingertips. The light pouring into the throne room warms his face. The sun should be shared by everyone. Iris, Aranea, Talcott, Cor—many people are waiting for Noctis. Did the prophecy ask them what they wanted?

Many sacrificed all for the king, but what should the people remaining be allowed? 

“We should move him,” says Gladiolus through his sobs.

“Not yet.” Ignis feels only a little bit of the king’s magic pulsing in him. On its own, it won’t be enough, but he prepared for this moment ages ago. A part of him suspected it would come to this, and he worked with Kimya on a special restorative—something more powerful than any phoenix down. The hunt for ingredients in a blackened world had proved especially difficult, but if he could summon enough of the remaining tendrils of magic to ignite its power before they disappear…

He withdraws a vial from the pocket of his Kingsglaive coat.

“That’s not gonna work,” says Gladiolus, pitying him.

Ignis ignores him. He considers the remaining magic to be part of Noctis’ essence, still tying him to this world.

He crushes the shell around the tonic with the strength of Noctis’ magic. A pulse shoots through the air, and the hair on Ignis’ neck and arms stands. 

Wet gasps fill the silence.

“What the—Noct, Noct!” cries Gladiolus. 

Boots hit the stairway up to the throne. Prompto. “His wounds are closing up!”

There’s coughing and spitting. Something drips against the marble. The stench of blood is fresh and heavy. And then it stops, and Prompto is weeping, and Ignis reaches for a wrist. Heat flows into the skin, and there’s a pulse.

“Noct,” he whispers. 

Another cough echoes the throne room, but it’s _his_ , unmistakable to Ignis’ trained ears. A thousand years could pass, and he would know.

Everyone is crying too much to narrate what’s going on for Ignis, but he can’t find his voice to ask.

Ignis scoops Noctis’ hands into his and squeezes them. He lowers his forehead to them and lets his tears flow. 

“Is this a dream?” Noctis croaks. “I don’t remember this part of the prophecy.”

Ignis kisses his palms. “You died. Nothing ever said you had to remain dead.”

There’s a soft smack of fabric against fabric, something that rips Ignis’ grip on Noctis away. The sobs get louder, and they’re coming from Prompto.

“I can’t breathe, Prompto,” says Noctis, laughing.

“You’d better be breathing!” scolds Gladiolus. “After all that. Shit, Noct…” 

Ignis rises to his feet to embrace Noctis and finds a tangle of arms blocking him. He joins the group hug anyway, allowing himself to cry with the others. Everyone is warm and real and _here_ , and he would give away more than his eyesight to keep it. He has made sacrifices enough to deserve this happiness for as long as it will last. Even if there is some sort of divine punishment, he’ll face it later.

“Let us go,” says Ignis. “Everyone is waiting.”

~*~

It takes two days to drive from Hammerhead to Lestallum. They take one of Cid’s cars and let the radio run reports in the background. The state of the world is revealed little by little as people tiptoe outside of the comfort of Lestallum. 

Gas stations that looked old ten years ago have been abandoned, falling further into disrepair. They stop at one to use its bathroom, and Noctis takes a glimpse in the store. The shelves are clear, nothing left but cold metal and trash.

“No one thought it was a crime to rob the stores when things got bad,” says Gladiolus, standing behind Noctis. “What wasn’t stolen, we went on supply runs for later on. Had to get any food and curatives we could find.”

Wild chocobos cross the road in Duscae, and for a moment, Noctis remembers riding them alongside his friends, laughing and racing and feeling the wind against his face.

Maybe in a year, the ache will fade. He knows it will. He stares at Ignis next to him as they cross Lucis and thinks it’ll be okay. The four of them have a chance at a good life if they all work together. 

Lestallum is bustling with traffic. People are cautiously stepping out of the city. The tunnel is clogged with pedestrians and vehicles, forcing Prompto to park the car almost half a mile away.

Noctis catches bits of excited conversation as they weed their way through the crowds. None of them recognize him, and he prefers it that way. The attention would be too much for him. He doesn’t need them to directly express gratitude. It is in their smiling faces, the awe in their eyes as they stare at the bright blue sky. Children zip around, shoving their way into people, and no one has the heart to scold them. One nearly bulldozes Noctis in the stomach, but he laughs as the kid stammers a quick apology and flees.

“Damn kids,” mutters Gladiolus with a smile.

Noctis holds Ignis’ hand. He’ll let anyone else think he’s leading a blind man, but no, Noctis needs to touch him.

“Things must’ve been crazy,” says Noctis when they finally reach the end. There are still queues of people on the streets. The observation deck of Lestallum is filled with celebration—people smoking meat on grills and listening to music. There is dancing and laughter. Noctis has never seen any event this lively, not even in his youth in the Crown City. 

“I hope they’re not cutting too deep into the rations,” says Ignis, frowning.

“Nah, they’re unloading it off a hunter’s truck.” Gladiolus points for Noctis and Prompto’s benefits. “Guess they figured the first thing we ought to do is find food.” 

Noctis’ mouth waters as he sees smoked garula ribs and cockatrice kebobs. “I want some of that.”

Ignis has fed them on their trip, but if there’s one part of the celebrations Noctis wants to join, it’s the eating. All the way from Insomnia, they’ve been too cautious to be happy, but for a minute, Noctis forgets about their worries.

If he has to be snatched away in the end, at least he gets to see the people come together as a community and live. 

“Where are you staying?” asks Noctis as he follows Gladiolus through the backstreets. 

“We’re sharing a two-story condo not far from the plant,” says Ignis. “Due to lack of space in the city and how frequently many of us leave, we share it with others—Cor, Monica, Dustin, Talcott, Iris, Aranea, Biggs, and Wedge stay there as well. We didn’t want to take room away from the refugees, especially when so many of us are out hunting.”

“I’m rarely there,” Prompto says, not looking up from his camera. “I spend most of my time in Hammerhead.”

“It’s still crowded if enough people are there are the same time,” warns Ignis. “But we’ll find space for you.” He squeezes Noctis’ hand.

Gladiolus stops in front of a doorway at the corner of two alleyways. “This is it.” He inserts the key and pushes open the door. “Iris? You here? Anyone?”

It isn’t a nice place, Noctis can tell that much, but it is shelter. There’s a kitchen to the right, a living room with two beds instead of seating on the left, and a stairway straight ahead with a door beyond it that leads to a laundry room. A fan blows feebly in the corner of the kitchen as they gather around the table. There are a lot of chairs there, along with maps and notebooks. 

Prompto snaps pictures of Noctis along the way. It feels like it did ten years prior—being with the guys, having photos taken, feeling a sense of togetherness.

“We can shower and go down to get some food,” says Gladiolus, leaning against a cabinet next to the table. “I wouldn’t mind some of that smoked meat.”

“Bet you Iris is there,” says Prompto. 

“Yeah, we’ll probably find her down there, if she’s in town.”

“I imagine she would be,” says Ignis, taking drinks out of the fridge. He hands Noctis a soda bottle. “Didn’t you tell her we were on our way back?”

“I messaged her, yeah,” says Gladiolus. “Everyone should be heading back in, just don’t know how long it’ll take ‘em.”

Noctis pops open the bottle of soda. It has been ages since he has had one; the fizz burns his throat. He didn’t know he missed that feeling until now.

Prompto and Gladiolus dig out their phones and begin sending texts and making calls. Noctis smiles up at Ignis, knowing he can’t see but not caring—hoping he’ll feel it. It seems to work. Ignis reaches out for his hand, palm upward, and Noctis takes it.

“Cor’s almost here,” says Prompto, hanging up. “And I got a text from Aranea. She’s hanging out at one of the bars. They’re breaking into all that wine they brought back from that Accordo vineyard.”

Ignis groans. “Will they not think of saving anything for later? It will take a while to get crops flourishing. If we all live on garula like this, there won’t be any of them left.”

“Wine’s not food, Iggy,” says Gladiolus as he hangs up from a call. “Dustin and Monica are on their way to Caem. Monica thinks if we can get the house fixed up again, we’ll have more leg room than in the city. Can’t help but agree.”

“You’re telling me!” Prompto whistles. “I can’t believe how packed the tunnel was! Who knew there were so many refugees in Lestallum?”

Gladiolus taps his phone against the table in a gentle rhythm. “Don’t know why all those people started leaving. Where are they headed? Most don’t have homes to go back to—but they’re gonna go and check, aren’t they?”

“Wouldn’t you be curious?” asks Ignis softly.

“I’m happy if I’ve got Iris and the rest of you.” Gladiolus waves his phone threateningly at Noctis, tears shining in his eyes. “That means you’re not going anywhere, Noct. You’re staying right here with us, got it?”

“He’s here to stay.” Ignis’ voice possesses a viciousness that promises danger for any force that dares come up against him. “With his work done, why should the rest of us continue to sacrifice anyone? Those days are done. Let us thrive.”

There are murmurs of agreement from everyone around the table. Noctis still isn’t sure if he can trust that he’s still attached to this world, but he wants to agree with Ignis. It might take weeks or months, it could even take years, but he’ll make the best of his days with them until he’s certain. If he lives to an old age, he’ll be grateful. 

Gladiolus stands and stretches. “All right, let’s get our showers and join the festivities. We’ll meet up with Iris on the main road.”

“Sounds good to me,” says Noctis. “I’m hungry!”

“Then let’s go! Those smoked ribs are calling my name.”

Noctis laughs as Gladiolus hurries up the stairs, Prompto not far behind him.

~*~

Noctis expects Iris to look exactly like she did when he last saw her, even though he knows it has been ten years. Gladiolus points her out in the crowd, and he’s shocked by the differences.

Iris waves as she cuts through a sea of people toward them. Her dark hair has grown out, brushing against her shoulders. She’s taller, too, and in her boots, doesn’t have to peer up at Noctis. Her bicep sports a moogle tattoo, and she has a few scars on her arms, but her hugs and voice are the same.

“Noct!” She’s crying as she squeezes him. 

“Not so loud,” he whispers, chuckling as he embraces her. It feels good to touch people, to be around his friends.

They manage to track down Cor, who has saved them a table at the center of town. Cor looks the same, only his hair has greyed and there are a few new lines on his face. It doesn’t take long for Aranea to join them with two bottles of wine—one in each hand. Gladiolus and Iris are the ones who manage to bring back meat, and all of them dive in, the meat dripping juices down their chins, their fingers caked in seasonings. Noctis tries to catch every bit of conversation, even when there are multiple ones started at the table.

Aranea and Iris swap stories about hunts. Ignis talks about time investigating tombs with Talcott. 

And everyone shares their experiences when they first watched the sun rise.

“It was almost blinding after ten years,” admits Iris. “I’ll never take another sunrise for granted.”

“I’ll be happy while I sleep through them again,” says Aranea. “Hey, pass me another kebob, Prompto.” She holds out her plate as he obliges. “Thanks. I haven’t eaten like this in ages.”

“No one has, and we’re going to eat all our stores if we’re not careful,” says Ignis.

Aranea elbows him in the ribs. “It’s fine. These were all hunted today. Let everyone live a little. We’ll calm down in a few days.”

“I agree with Ignis,” says Cor. “Lucis needs to be returned to order.” He looks at Noctis. “Are you ready to take back your kingdom?”

“Of course.” Noctis looks to Ignis. “I’ve got the best people for the job. We’ll make Caem our base of operations once Monica and Dustin get the place back in order.”

“But for now, we relax,” says Gladiolus, wagging a cleaned kebob stick at Cor. “We eat, we plan, we work hard.”

“We work together,” agrees Noctis. “All of us. With the people. I want to hear from the refugees who come from Accordo and Niflheim, too. We need to speak with everyone. Start rebuilding Insomnia.” He’s surprised to hear the words, so resolute and confident, out of his own mouth. But they have never felt more right.

Gladiolus slaps him on the back so hard that he almost spits out his next bite of meat.

“You really have become a king.” 

There are tears in the Gladiolus’ eyes, otherwise Noctis would have prepared a sarcastic comeback.

“Not until tomorrow,” says Ignis, fingers resting against Noctis’ knee.

“Yeah, well, today, we’re all celebrating. Have some wine, Iggy. It’s a good substitute for Ebony.”

“It is not.”

“Don’t care, have some.” Gladiolus pours it into a plastic cup and hands it to Noctis, who then hands it to Ignis.

“Very well,” says Ignis.

Noctis takes a red cup and fills it halfway with wine. Before he knows it, several other cups reach across the table toward his and tap it.

It’s a silent toast. To the future. To their king.

Noctis grins despite his tears.

~*~

The festivities tire Noctis out. Ignis leads him to one of the rooms and locks the door behind them. There is a bed near the closet and a mattress on the floor in the opposite corner. Next to the door is a sofa with battered upholstery, a stack of blankets and a pillow shoved in one corner. 

“As I said, it gets crowded,” says Ignis. “Along with the living room, there are four bedrooms, total, and only five mattresses—three with frames.” He grins. “Some nights, we’ve had to draw straws or gamble for the best sleeping arrangements.”

“How many sofas?”

“Three. All of them repulsive. One of them smells like stale beer.”

“Gross.” Noctis looks hopefully at the bed. “Looks like this one’s the only full-sized…”

“That’s why they gave it to us for the night. No gambling or straws required.” Ignis reaches out and strums his fingers along Noctis’ arm. 

Noctis leans closer, stroking Ignis’ chest over his shirt. His lips tentatively lower to his neck and kiss a trail downward, undoing buttons along his path. One of his palms rests over Ignis’ beating heart, blood rushing warm under his touch.

“I need you, Noct,” says Ignis, and when Noctis gazes up, he sees tears. “I couldn’t let you go. Not in the end.”

“I know.” He does now, even if he didn’t before. “Thank you.” Noctis reaches up and cups his jaw, thumb tracing his lower lip. “I was prepared to do it, but I didn’t want to leave you.”

“You won’t.” Ignis sounds more certain than Noctis feels.

They take off their clothes, tossing them into a hamper. They climb under the covers in nothing but their underwear.

Noctis rests comfortably in Ignis’ arms, feeling his fingers stroke absentminded messages of love along his skin. It cuts the cords of tension coiled around Noctis, and his eyelids droop. He falls asleep before Ignis.

In the morning, he’ll belong to the people, but for now, he only belongs to Ignis.

**Author's Note:**

> if the game can ignore the consequences on the environment ten years of darkness will have, then they can have meat at their celebrations and Noctis can live  
> HAH  
> take that, science!


End file.
